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Title: Hunter�s Hammer
Author: Lizzie
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: I�m guessing this is worthy of an NC-17!
Content: Hunter, Taker, a sledgehammer, lube and some kinky sex. lol!!
Disclaimer: They're not mine, and unless I wake up one morning having mysteriously become Vince McMahon, I doubt they ever will be. Damn, that's a scary thought.
Distribution: Not that you're likely to want it, but if you do, just tell me where.
Summary: The story behind the story for Dove�s �Sledgehammer Confessions�. *giggles* Hunter, Taker and the sledgehammer have an, um, *intimate* relationship.
Notes: You really oughtta read Dove�s Confessions series if you haven�t already. Then you�ll see why I wrote this. And not only that, they�re a truly excellent series!! Oh, and thanks to Dove for letting me do this� And hope no one minds PWP�s, because that�s exactly what this is. If you can find even a smidge of plot I�ll be severely displeased. Hehe!!!

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Hunter�s Hammer
(or, �My God! Didn�t that Hurt?!�)
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How do I explain what happened? It�s not easy. I mean, how in the name of all that�s sick and evil do you explain what happened that night? It just doesn�t make any sense, however you look at it. I don�t fully understand it myself. After all, you don�t hit a guy in the head with a sledgehammer thinking he�s gonna fuck you with it later.

Then again, this is Taker we�re talking about - he�s never been the most rational guy in the world by any stretch of the fucking imagination. But I had no idea he�d take being beaten about the head as a come-on. Hell, I definitely didn�t mean it that way. Not that it didn�t feel good, hitting him, but I didn�t take that as meaning I wanted to fuck. Obviously he did.

I was backstage afterward, unlacing my boots and getting ready to get back to the hotel. I didn�t even hear the door open. One second I was throwing my boots into a chair and the next I�m looking up into the mirror and Taker�s standing behind me with my sledgehammer in his hands and this manic look on his face. Not something I wanna have to see on a regular basis, believe me. And I thought he was going to hit me; I turned so he�d have to look at my face as he hit me � for some people it�s harder to hurt someone like that if they�re looking at you. Then I realised that hitting me wasn�t exactly what was on his mind. Not with the sledgehammer at least.

He grabbed my shoulder and forced me to turn my back, then he grabbed me by my neck with his free hand, squeezing hard enough to bruise, and forced me up against the vanity. The edge was pushed up against my thighs, digging in painfully, and I wasn�t sure what the hell was going on until I looked up into the mirror in front of me and saw his face. He was grinning. Not like happy or anything, but kinda smug. That I�m-gonna-enjoy-this grin. And as he pulled my wrists behind me, holding them to the base of my spine with the sledgehammer and holding it there with a knee as he started to tug at my trunks, I knew what he was going to do.

It didn�t bother me like it should have. I mean, realising that there�s a fucking huge guy looming behind you who�s hell-bent on raping you shouldn�t be a turn-on, but was it ever. I could see him in the mirror, his long red hair damp and lying over his shoulders as he dropped my trunks and smiled. God, he looked beautiful. Insane, yeah, but beautiful.

Then he leant to the side and grabbed the bottle of baby oil I�d left on the vanity. I bit my lip as he flipped the top open, and shivered as I watched him pour it out onto his hands. He was heavy, most of his weight pressing against my wrists and against my back, cutting off the blood to my hands and hurting like hell, but I knew that if I shoved back hard enough he�d fall and I�d be able to get away. What was really odd was that I realised I didn�t want to.

I shuddered as I felt a slicked finger push inside of me. It was hard to tell if it hurt more or less than the wooden handle being pinned across my wrists, but it did hurt, a hell of a lot. Taker has big hands. And he wasn�t exactly gentle. He thrust it in and out a couple of times, then the next thing I knew I was being finger-fucked with two, then three� God, it hurt. But I was shuddering under him and moaning as he leant down next to my ear and started hissing something about me getting my punishment. All I could think was that if this was punishment then I�d have to smash his face with blunt implements more often.

I was pushing back against his hand involuntarily and I couldn�t tell whether he was amused or angry that I did. This was supposed to be punishment, after all, and I was enjoying it. I almost wished I hadn�t done it because showing him that he was getting me hot was the last thing I wanted to do, but it was worth it to see the look on his face.

But then he pulled his fingers out. It�s odd to think that you can miss something so painful, but you can, believe me. I felt kinda empty without him trying to tear my insides apart with his bare hands. I remember whimpering or some fucking thing and being too far gone to care that I sounded like a complete idiot, or that he was looking at me like I was insane.

Then he took the sledgehammer from across my back. I almost panicked when I thought he was just going to go and leave me like that, but I could see in the mirror that he wasn�t going anywhere. I frowned. If he wasn�t leaving then what the hell was he doing letting my hands free?

Well, I found out. Because for one thing I could barely even feel my hands let alone hit him with them, and another, about two seconds later I felt something brushing against me. Something hard. And kinda cold. For a start I thought it was him, but no. I mean, he hadn�t even touched his pants and even the deadman�s cock wouldn�t feel quite so� rigid. Then he started to push it into me, and as I leant forward, hands bracing me against the vanity, I laughed. He was going to fuck me with my own sledgehammer.

I gasped. My breath caught in my throat. Short of my quadriceps tearing away from my leg, I think that was probably just about the most painful thing I ever felt. For about fifteen seconds as he left it there and I started to adjust, then he started to press it in and out of me and I was pushing back, moaning, looking up at his reflection in the mirror as he did it. There was this really fucking odd look on his face like �Jesus, you�re enjoying this?� and I knew exactly how he felt. This shouldn�t feel good. But it did. And he nudged it against my prostate and it suddenly felt even better.

I almost screamed. Then I managed to turn to him and choke out �God, do that again!� So he did, with that same stunned look on his face. I tossed my head back and bucked back against the handle, shuddering as it hit the spot again. It was intense. I�d never felt anything like it. God it was painful but the whole thing was just so� I just can�t explain it.

I looked up again and this time he was almost smiling. And he leant forward, his hair brushing against my bare back, and he brushed my hair from the back of my neck, kissing the nape. I shuddered. I definitely hadn�t expected that, and from the look on his face, neither had he. He just frowned as his eyes locked with mine in the mirror, his free arm curling around my waist, his free hand curling around my cock. He looked as confused as I did.

�God you�re fucking hot like that!� he rasped, right beside my ear. �Come for me, Hunter. C�mon�.

He was pumping me harder and thrusting into me with the sledgehammer, fucking me with it, owning me with it. And I did as he said. I couldn�t not. I just came all over his hand and my stomach and the mirror, then he just looked at me in the mirror, shuddering with this immense fucking roar and I knew he�d just come too. It was amazing. I mean, he hadn�t even touched himself, he�d just come right there from seeing me and from what he�d done to me.

He pulled the sledgehammer out and tossed it into the chair, and caught me as I was falling to my knees. There was this obscenely satisfied smile on his face as he sat me down then licked my come off his hand, looking at me with those big green eyes.

�Now that was more fun than I thought it would be, boy�, he told me, his accent even thicker than usual. All I could do was nod. �I never woulda thought it. Guess I�ll haveta let ya hit me more often, huh?� I nodded again. �Or maybe next time it�s my turn?�

He glanced over at the sledgehammer lying shining with oil in the chair next to me, a smile on his face that told me just what he was thinking. I was thinking the same thing, strange as that felt. I was sitting there aching like hell after just having the Undertaker of all fucking people fuck me with a fucking sledgehammer, knowing that it hurt like fucking hell but got me harder than I could remember in months, and I was getting hard again just thinking about doing the same thing to him. There had to be something wrong there.

�Next time � your turn�, I croaked, not surprised my voice sounded so ragged. He just chuckled, winked and left the room.

So I guess it wasn�t so hard to explain after all. That�s what happened. Really the only thing I�m never gonna understand is *why* it happened. That and why I suggested it to Steve the other night. And why exactly it struck him as such a good idea�